


Tie a knot

by Urloth (CollyWobbleKiwi)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1346005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollyWobbleKiwi/pseuds/Urloth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short tumblr request ficlet for Greenkangaroo: Miriel figuring out how to put power to her embroidery for the first time</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tie a knot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greenkangaroo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenkangaroo/gifts).



Míriel  had watched her grandmother plucking at her weaving. 

Plucking, plucking, plucking, without the shuttle moving, Ilmarian’s gaze cast somewhere far away then suddenly snapping back.

She’d warn of the malformed, of storms, of drought.

Just by plucking at her threads, hunched over them protectively like a mother spider.

Míriel  looked down at the scrap threads she had in her hands, discards from fixing a tear in her hem.

She pulled one tight between thumbs and forefingers, then awkwardly plucked at it with a index finger.

Nothing happened. 

She frowned.

She scruched the thread up and put it in her scrap basket, picking up her father’s trews to fix a tear.

Beside her, her mother was talking to her friends. One woman in particular dominated the talking, overriding her companions and Míriel could tell her mother was getting frustrated.

She rummaged through the scrap basket for any threads long enough to work on the tear. She found one but it was loosely knotted, a tangled weaving of itself.

Unpicking it was harder than what she expected. She pulled it tight a few times. The first time the clearing became substantially quieter she put it down to the loud friend of her mother’s having said enough. But as she unpicked, accidentally knotted, and unpicked again with corresponding rises and falls in noise, there was a idle thought….a amusing fantasy….a alarmed doubt….suspicion… confirmation.

She looked down at her father’s trews, still unmended, and at the thread, half unknotted. She stretched her ears, enjoying the quiet conversation to her right, not dominated by any one voice.

She put the thread to one side, and rummaged in her basket for a new one.


End file.
